


Organically Caffeinated

by keelywolfe



Series: Coffee Nation [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Caffeinated, Eventual Smut, M/M, Sleep Deprivation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10474821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Or how Robbie learned to stop worrying and date the local hero.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, for all the readers out there, I've removed this series from the Sportashorts tag because...well, it's not short anymore, and given it its own. Since the rating on this segment is moving to Mature, I've made it its own story so that anyone who doesn't want to read that can enjoy the previous chapters on their own. 
> 
> And away we go!

* * *

Two hours after assuring Sportacus he had a surprise date planned for him, Robbie still hadn't thought of anything and he was well on his way to a full panic. Normally, planning was something Robbie excelled at; he'd come up with dozens of plans to get Sportacus to leave town, after all. 

Getting him to want to stay, on the other hand, didn't seem to be his forte. Nothing was coming to mind; if he knew what to do with Sportacus he wouldn't have suggested pizza and a movie for their first date. 

Research was out as well; Sportacus might have cruised through the internet for tips but Robbie was more than a little afraid if he went poking around on it, he was going to stumble across a blog with their names on it or worse, a blog that had his picture with a red circle around it and a line through it and that was more than he could bear right now.

He couldn't _think_ and he was halfway back to the coffee shop for another drink when it hit him. He knew who he could ask. 

There was a young man behind the counter now wearing headphones, head nodding along to the beat. They didn't seem to interfere with his ability to hear; he only glanced up at the chime of the door and said laconically, "Hi, Robbie."

"Where is the sassy coffee shop girl?" Robbie blurted. 

Not even a blink. "She just left," he said, jerking his thumb to the right. "You can probably still see her." 

Robbie dashed outside and looked around wildly. Yes, there she was, a backpack slung over one shoulder and the ties to her apron dangling from it, fluttering in the breeze. 

"Sassy coffee shop girl!" Robbie shouted and he saw her startle, nearly dropping her own cup as she looked over her shoulder with a bewildered expression.

"Uh, hi, Robbie?" she said cautiously. "I'm off work, but the shop is still open."

"I need your help," Robbie said frantically. "I know we aren't friends and I'm good with plans, I am, I am always making plans but I can't do this! I can't think of anything and they already think I am a terrible boyfriend, how can I let him down like this? You said we were a cute couple, you said I'd be good for him, but I am _terrible_ for him and—"

"Whoa, okay," she held up a hand, "Breathe for a second."

Breathing? There was no time for breathing and Robbie sucked in enough air to blurt, "I'm trying to give Sportacus a perfect date!"

That turned bewildered to thoughtful and she nodded slowly, "And Lazytown is one of the top ten most boring places to live. I get you." She pursed her lips, considering, "Okay, first, go back to the Beanery and get a coffee from Marcus. Tell him he can put it on my tab and it's Trina, not sassy coffee shop girl. While you are gone, I will think. I'll help, okay?"

Robbie nodded jerkily. "Okay." He started to walk away, hesitated. "And you'll wait here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Robbie, I'll wait here."

Marcus seemed duly unimpressed with just about anything, calm to the point of unconsciousness. But he made coffee with skill and waved Robbie off when he mentioned putting it on Trina's tab. 

Robbie still left a tip.

True to her word, the coffee shop girl was still there, her backpack at her feet. She hitched it back up when she saw him and jerked her head for him to follow.

"Well, you're in luck, because I have an idea," Trina said triumphantly. "We'll have to hurry though, come on."

Robbie took a deep breath and forced out, "Thank you for helping."

"Are you kidding me?" she said incredulously, "This is like, the most awesome thing I've gotten to do all week. I get to help in the epic Robbie-Sportacus love story? Priceless."

"Oh, please don't blog about this." Robbie groaned. She stopped so quickly Robbie nearly ran into her. 

"You've got to be kidding me," she said flatly. Robbie suspected very strongly that her assistance hinged on his answer and he sighed. Next time, he'd get the advice _first_. 

"All right, blog about it tomorrow! At least let him find out before the rest of the town."

She grinned. "You got it."

They walked together silently down one of the twisted Lazytown lanes, almost to the outskirts of town and when neatly painted signs began to appear, Robbie moaned aloud. "Oh, no, please. Anything but this."

"You said you wanted a perfect date," Trina said pitilessly. She pointed up at the Farmer's Market sign. "Can you think of anything he'd like better than a nice dinner that you've made yourself out of organic fruits and vegetables? I bet they even have fresh baked whole-grain bread."

"You're assuming I can cook anything!"

"Please," she snorted. "Everyone knows Sportacus eats his wegitables raw. Cut up some 'sports candy', make it look pretty on a plate, and serve it up. Instant boyfriend points." She pointed at him sternly. "I've seen the way you dress; you are more than capable of making things look pretty."

"I'm going to wake up eventually and this will all have been a nightmare," Robbie told her, reluctantly following her through the doors. Even the smell of the place made him wrinkle his nose; like refined dirt, ugh. At the front near the doors was a bulletin board of flyers and as Robbie walked past it, one caught his eye. He took it thoughtfully, tucking it in his pocket, before following into the land of his worst dreams. 

At least now the Sassy Coffee Shop girl wasn't the only one with something resembling a plan. Speaking of which, she shoved a basket into his arms and marched on. 

"Next time, take him here yourself," she instructed, perusing the selection of grapes at the first booth. "He's been here before but he'd get a thrill out of taking you."

"You expect me to suffer through this twice?" Nothing was worth doing this twice. 

She smirked. "You want to see how excited Sportacus can get in the presence of this amount of fresh fruit?"

Ah, yes. Robbie stood corrected. "You have made your point."

They made it to exactly the second booth before Robbie noticed the market had gone oddly silent. A glance around confirmed that the few people still lingering in the market this close to closing time were more or less staring at him with varying degrees of obviousness. Anyone's eye that caught his own got a dirty look; only a few people had enough shame to look away.

"Why are they all staring at us?" Robbie muttered, low.

"What's this 'us' you speak of?" Trina said absently, poking at some strawberries. Whatever method she was using to determine their worthiness, they seemed to pass; she added them to the basket. "They're staring at you."

"Why are they staring at me, then?" Robbie hissed.

The look Trina gave him was an even mixture of pity and amusement, "Oh, honey, you really don't know, do you?" She raised her voice before she said to all and sundry, "Relax, everyone, I'll post to the blog about it tomorrow!"

Immediately, those curious looks were satisfied and every eyeball in the place returned to their own shopping or booths. Flabbergasted, Robbie followed behind the Sassy Coffee Shop girl, lugging his steadily filling basket behind her. 

"You…they…" Robbie spluttered out, "Why…why do any of you care about any of this?"

"Because Lazytown is one of the top ten most boring places to live," she said easily. Apples made their way into his basket in both red and green. "You and Sportacus dating is the most exciting thing that has happened around here since we got cable TV." She gave him a nudge with her elbow. "Come on, the local villain and the local hero hooking up? You can't see how that might be interesting?"

"Not really," Robbie mumbled. A familiar urge was niggling at the back of his mind, one that he hadn't had a chance to indulge in for a while. He no longer wanted Sportacus to go away but the rest of the town was still fair game. Something to consider for later…

"Anyway, this stuff should be good." She gave Robbie's basket a critical look. "Come on, let's get you out of here, you still have some prep to do."

Robbie sighed, "I couldn't persuade you to—"

The coffee shop girl gave him a baleful look, "Don't even ask. You're supposed to be showing off to your boyfriend, not paying other people to do your manual labor."

"Who said I was going to pay you?" Robbie grumbled, but he followed her to the registers. The price tag was enough to give Robbie a double take; who knew that disgusting leafy things could possibly cost so much? He could have gotten an entire cake for half that price.

Bags in hand, bright, shiny new cloth bags with the market logo on them and of course there was a separate charge, Robbie stepped back outside. He had a half-baked plan with raw ingredients, wonderful. But better than the nothing he'd had before.

"Now, remember, on a plate, looking pretty!" Trina admonished him. She stole a strawberry from Robbie's bag, dancing back with a laugh when he would have slapped her hand. "I expect a full report from you tomorrow when you come in!"

"Only if I get a discount," Robbie said, sullenly. Probably not even then. 

The coffee shop girl gave him a grin filled with the sass he had come to expect from her. "Tomorrow!" she called and skipped off merrily on her way, probably someplace where she didn't have to cut up any revolting dirt snacks. 

Resolutely, Robbie turned back down the lane and headed for home. He had work to do, apparently, and probably some video instructions to search for on youtube. 

This was going to work, he told himself. The Sassy Coffee Shop girl was right; it was a simple plan filled with things that Sportacus loved. Simple. 

What could possibly go wrong?

-tbc-


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

What could possibly go wrong?

The answer was everything. Everything that could possibly go wrong was going wrong in every possible way.

To begin with, it was only after he returned home that it occurred to Robbie that cutting up this leafy nonsense would require a knife and the only ones Robbie owned were made for cutting cake and utility knives. Somehow, he didn't imagine chopping any of this would be made easier by using a box cutter. That meant another trek and the closest option was borrowing from a neighbor. 

Normally Robbie would have rather chewed off a limb and taken his chances doing this with one arm, but time was of the essence and, blast it all, he hadn't just spent money and effort getting this revolting foliage to do mediocre work.

The pink child's house was closest and her expression when she answered the door was one that would stick with Robbie for ages. 

"Robbie Rotten?" she said, in that voice of hers that indicated she knew he was up to no good.

"Yes," Robbie drew himself up with great dignity, "May I borrow a knife?"

"A knife," she repeated, blinking up at him. "Why do you need a knife?"

The urge rose to snap at her that it was none of her business. Robbie tamped it down with some effort. To begin with, he actually did need her help and to be fair, it was a reasonable question. Borrowing a cup of flour was innocent enough; borrowing a knife might have nefarious consequences and anyone would have some concern they were going to be complicit in an impromptu murder. 

With that in mind, Robbie gritted out, "To. Cut. Vegetables."

Instantly, wariness turned to a terribly knowing expression and how old was this kid, anyway? "Oh, so you need a paring knife! Okay, let me ask my Uncle."

Oh for…exactly how many people needed to be involved in this? It was a date, one simple date, he'd done this before without needing an entire team backing him up. Distantly, he heard conversation and lo and behold, the Mayor himself appeared. In his hands was not a single knife but a selection of bewildering tools. 

"Hm, a paring knife, of course, of course," he burbled out, "And a chef's knife, not everything is small enough for a paring knife, you know. You probably need a peeler, too, hmm, here's a vegetable peeler, and a melon baller, and ooh, a garlic press, you might not need it but better safe than sorry!"

Everything was pushed into Robbie's hands and the Mayor beamed up at him with a pleased expression. Which…was not something Robbie was used to; people didn't generally seem happy to see him, it was more like they blandly accepted his existence and moved on with their lives. 

It was more than a little galling to think that a couple of kisses from Sportacus had granted him the town's affection. 

Never mind that. Robbie managed a muttered thank you and walked quickly away, not even waiting for the door to close. Balancing everything was a bit of a juggling act, worse when he returned home and had to get down a ladder. 

Okay, now he had the equipment, he had the dirt snacks, and all he needed was directions. 

Five minutes into watching a video on cutting fruits into shapes, Robbie decided this was impossible. To begin with, a few minutes of fumbling had convinced him that he was much more likely to cut off a finger than manage to make a rose out of a strawberry and why would anyone even want to eat an apple shaped like a swan? 

Worse, the coffee shop girl had his number all right, because the more he decided he couldn't possibly manage it, the more Robbie _wanted_ to do it. He did like things to look pretty. What was the point of dressing like a pirate if you couldn't be the best looking damn pirate out there? Why go through the trouble of putting on a dress if you were just going to slop on the makeup? The devil was in the details and Robbie had an eye for the finer points. 

If he'd had the time, Robbie could have built a machine to do this for him, this kind of thing was exactly _why_ he liked to build machines in the first place, but unless he wanted to put off this date for about forty-eight sleepless hours, manual labor was the only option. 

So Robbie gritted his teeth, tied on his apron, and went to work.

Eventually, he managed a few imperfect little strawberry roses, settled on a plate in a little fruit bouquet. A glance at the clock warned him time was running out and for everything else, well, they'd have to settle for a color palette rather than sculpture. 

"This is going to be fine," Robbie mumbled, wincing as he narrowly avoided cutting off the tip of his finger. "Careful, careful," he chided aloud. He wanted Sportacus to show up for their date, not because his blasted crystal told him to flip his way over to take Robbie in for stitches.

In the far corner, one of his machines tootled a jaunty song, informing him it had finished its work and Robbie nearly sagged in relief; at least one thing was going to plan.

The plates were finished, covered in plastic wrap and sitting neatly amidst the gore of fruit that had been sacrificed to Robbie's learning experience. Time to set up the second phase of the plan, this was working, this was fine, it was going to be fine.

Probably.

* * *

They hadn't set an exact time, true, but for their past two dates Sportacus had arrived at precisely 7:07pm. It stood to reason that the third time was the charm and true to Robbie's prediction, a hollow, gonging knock came at the expected time. Robbie took a deep breath and wiped his sweating hands on his apron before taking it off, smoothing down his shirt and patting his hair before climbing the ladder. 

The hatch was already open, Sportacus peering down it, and his voice echoed as he called down, "Hello!"

"I know it's you," Robbie called back up, exasperated. Less so when he finally emerged and before he could even get to the top of the ladder, Sportacus was stealing a kiss, leaning in and it was a novelty to have to tip his head upward for it, sighing a little into the warmth of his mouth. 

Sportacus drew back almost too quickly, beaming at him eagerly, "You're coming up instead of me going down? Are we going somewhere else? Where are we going?"

"Not far," Robbie hedged. Anxiety was starting to swell heavily in the pit of his stomach, a roiling ocean of apprehension. There was the slightest tremble to his hand when he took Sportacus's, drawing him towards the back of the hatch platform and away from the billboard.

Behind the billboard and the hatch to his bunker were fields of grass and a lovely view of the mountains, far from the prying, too-curious eyes of the denizens of Lazytown. Robbie had set his Disguiseanator 3000 to produce a large, cushiony blanket and big, fluffy pillows, bigger and fluffier than the ones Sportacus had had at his picnic, and they were neatly arranged alongside a small table with a covered platter and two paper cups, only recently retrieved from the coffee shop. 

That Marcus kid hadn't so much as twitched an eyebrow at Robbie's hasty reappearance, only made the drinks and offered Robbie a lethargic good evening. Really, he could get to like that kid.

Sportacus surveyed the scene and cocked his head to one side, curiously, "You planned a picnic?"

He didn't sound disappointed but Robbie swallowed against a lump in his throat regardless."You said you liked picnics."

"I do!" Sportacus laughed. "I like them a lot." He bounced down to the plushy blanket and sat on one corner, slipping off his boots before settling against the pillows. Sportacus wriggled his bare toes against the blanket and Robbie felt his mouth go dry. How in the name of the graceless gods did the man even have attractive feet?

He realized he'd been standing there staring for far too long and gave himself a shake, scrambling down from the hatch platform with less grace than Sportacus had. Reluctantly, he took off his own shoes since that seemed to be the order of the evening. Admittedly, the blanket felt good against his bare feet. All thoughts of blankets and feet fled when Sportacus tugged off his hat and dropped it on his boots, running his fingers through his hair to let it fall in tousled curls. 

He shrugged at Robbie's silent wide-eyed stare, "You always manage to get it off, anyway," he smiled, slyly, "I just beat you this time." 

"Yeah," Robbie said, dumbly, "I like…I—"

Another smile, shyer this time, warmer, "I know you do."

Sportacus shifted to sit with his elbows propped on his knees and his chin in his hands, his gaze expectant. Here it was, the moment of truth. With a flourish, Robbie lifted the platter lid and revealed his two plates and all their colorful glory, all the fruit and veg cut with the same precision that Robbie used to machine parts for his inventions, except the strawberry roses, and Sportacus would never know just how much of his beloved sports candy had died to make it look that pretty. Carefully, Robbie lifted the plates, one in each hand, and presented them with pride.

Sportacus blinked rapidly, blue eyes taking in the sight. "Well! That's an interesting combination, isn't it."

Interesting? "Interesting means bad," Robbie said flatly. Both plates drooped in his grip. One grape rolled from its careful position to mingle forlornly with the apple slices.

Sportacus's mouth dropped open. "It does not!"

"Yes, it does, everyone knows that."

"I am not everyone and it does not! Interesting means interesting. Apples, strawberries, radishes, grapes and broccoli, this is all very nutritious," he said primly. He reached out and didn't quite touch one of the carefully placed items, "And...I'm not actually sure what this is?"

"I have been reliably informed it’s a pomegranate."

"…Ah. You sliced it. Hmm," Sportacus hesitated and seemed to be searching for words. The ones he found were filled with cautious curiosity, "Where are the seeds?"

"I threw them away." What kind of question was that, that was what you did with seeds…wasn't it? Something in Sportacus's expression told Robbie that was the wrong answer.

To begin with, his face was going a very interesting shade of pink, his mouth and mustache quivering. Robbie narrowed his eyes as Sportacus actually bit his lip, pressing them together so tightly his mouth was only a thin line. Robbie sighed, wilting, "Oh, just laugh before you hurt yourself."

"No," Sportacus strangled out. "I will not. You did a wonderful job and..." A near snort escaped him, quickly choked back, "…it's wonderful, you're wonderful."

Robbie was about to say that he had obviously been a worse influence than he thought because he'd never known Sportacus to be such a liar, only the plates were rescued from his grip before they could sag any further. Set carefully aside and Sportacus gave him a gentle, lingering kiss and maybe it was just that, a soothing touch, or maybe Sportacus had some latent ability to draw away a person's unease; whatever it was, Robbie's anxiety dialed back to normal levels. He leaned in to the reassuring pressure of Sportacus's kiss and when they finally drew apart, the pink in Sportacus's face only lingered in his cheeks.

"That's better," Sportacus said, huskily. He cleared his throat and gave Robbie a bright smile. "Shall we eat then?"

Ah, yes, the part of dinner that Robbie had dreaded the most, "Sure," he said from between his teeth. He could gag this down, he could. A few bites would be enough to make Sportacus happy, surely he could manage that.

"…maybe not the pomegranate," Sportacus murmured. "I'll explain later."

Which was fine by Robbie because he didn't much care to stretch his acting skills to choking down that horrid looking thing; even prettily sliced it looked like something that needed to be buried and forgotten, not eaten. Instead, he chose a strawberry which was at least something he recognized. Strawberry shortcake was in the realm of things he could occasionally enjoy. 

He popped one of his only slightly lopsided strawberry roses into his mouth and chewed determinedly. It was an effort not to spit it directly back out, forcing it back enough to swallow it down and how the hell did Sportacus eat this stuff? How did he convince children to eat it; the lingering bitterness at the back of his tongue made him want to drink a gallon of coffee to wash it down. He settled for a sip and tried to give Sportacus what he hoped was a winsome smile. 

Only to find Sportacus staring at him. Robbie blinked, looked down at the plate and back up, "What?"

He licked his lips, "Ah, you don't really eat the leafy part of a strawberry."

"Why not?" Robbie frowned, "You eat green things all the time."

"Yes, but…" Sportacus coughed, "Well, some green things taste better than others."

Now that was an out and out lie, "Kale does not taste better than that." Robbie had accidentally gotten some added to a smoothie once and the memory would haunt him for all time.

That seemed to flummox him. "Okay. You have me there," Sportacus rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Okay. Let's say that it isn't as nutritious on a strawberry. Also, it can have something of a laxative effect."

"Oh," Robbie wrinkled his nose. So fruit not only tasted disgusting, it also brought with it disgusting effects, "Why didn't you just say that?"

Sportacus rolled his eyes, "I did. All right, here, try this." He picked up one of the little strawberry roses and neatly plucked off the greenery. He held it to Robbie's lips, offering, and with a mental sigh, Robbie opened his mouth to take the morsel. And closed his teeth on nothing as Sportacus teasingly drew it back.

"You…" Robbie couldn’t help a lopsided smile. "I'm already eating it for you; I'm not about to go chasing it down."

"You don't have to eat it," Sportacus lifted it to his own mouth, biting into the lush red fruit, chewing slowly, his throat bobbing softly as he swallowed it down. Robbie didn't realize how intently he was staring until his eyes felt dry and he was forced to blink. Maybe he didn't care for the strawberries but he would be more than happy to sit and watch Sportacus eat them.

Impulsively, he picked one up, mangling off the little leaf with far less grace than Sportacus had. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it up to Sportacus mouth. The urge to pull it away as Sportacus had done was intertwined with his very real desire to watch those even white teeth split open the red berry. The choice was stolen when Sportacus caught his wrist with a gentle hand, holding him still as he stole the fruit from Robbie's fingertips. Robbie almost moaned aloud at the wet heat of his mouth closing far too briefly over his fingertips, sucking away the lingering traces of juice.

Sportacus swallowed the second berry, still holding Robbie's hand. "See?" he murmured, low and enticing, "I'll eat them if you don’t like them."

He liked them a lot better in Sportacus's mouth, that was certain, but there didn't seem to be a way to say it without sounding crass. Robbie settled for a neutral, "They're all yours."

They lingered a moment longer until Robbie finally pulled his hand free, returning his attention to his plate and the appalling amount of sports candy still on it. Robbie tried another strawberry and had to admit, with the leaf removed they were somewhat better. Grapes were more palatable, sweeter and juicy, and he managed most of those. The rest he more or less moved around the plate to give an impression of consumption, occasionally offering a bite to Sportacus that was happily taken. 

He didn't touch the unexplained pomegranate. 

At least Sportacus was eating with all evidence of enjoyment, that was the important thing. Sportacus had cleared most of his plate, aside from the pomegranate, before absently picking up his cup and drinking down a long swallow. He froze, eyes going wide. 

"Oh," he said slowly, "I think…that was...yours…"

His eyes rolled back and he collapsed in slow motion, plate toppling to the blanket and the cup dropped from his lax hand, spilling out a wave of milky brown, well-sugared coffee and not tea.

Robbie cursed, fumbling over the chaos of fruit to where Sportacus lay sprawled on the ground. A grape squished wetly under his knee but Robbie barely noticed. He pushed up one of his eyelids with a thumb, taking in the way the pupil widened. Not too bad, then, probably he had enough fruit in his system that he wasn't in a full sugar meltdown. 

"Apples, apples," Robbie chanted, reaching wildly for his own plate. His frantic lurch had sent his own plate into disorder but most of it had escaped the carnage. He scooped up a handful of apple slices, scrambling to lift Sportacus's head into his lap. Sportacus seemed more dazed than unconscious and he ate the apples as Robbie carefully fed them to him, his expression clearing quickly.

"Hi," Sportacus mumbled, still chewing an apple slice.

"Hi? That's what you have to say?" Robbie sighed. "Hi, yourself. How are you feeling?"

"Fiiiiiiine. You're very handsome," Sportacus beamed up at him, wriggling so that his head was snuggled into Robbie's lap. 

"Eat some more apples," Robbie said dryly. Obediently, Sportacus bit into another slice from Robbie's hand, less his normal puppyish behavior and more pony. He finished most of them before shaking his head on another slice.

"Enough, enough," Sportacus begged, "I'm fine. It wasn't _that_ much sugar."

"You look nauseous in the presence of cake," Robbie grumbled out. He dropped the last few apple slices onto the plate, alongside the rest of the organic butchery. "After a sip of my coffee, I'm surprised you don't need to eat an orchard." The napkins were out of reach and Sportacus didn't seem inclined to move, so Robbie reluctantly wiped his sticky hand on his trouser leg. Now that Sportacus was more or less back to the land of the living, other details were making themselves known. For example, the way his hair was a wild tousle of curls and hesitantly, Robbie combed his apple-tacky fingers through them, coaxing them into a vague semblance of order.

"Are you going to move?" Robbie asked, idly. He'd done the best he could with Sportacus's hair considering the way that it defied logic and gravity. No wonder he always wore a hat.

Sportacus seemed to think about it for a moment. "No. I'm going to stay here."

"I did have something else planned for our date." Which was good all things considered; there was still a possibility he could elevate this from 'horrible' to 'maybe not so bad'.

"Do I have to move for it?" Sportacus asked, his lower lip quivering in something close to a pout. If he hadn't been so damn adorable, Robbie would have pushed him off just for that.

"Actually, you don't," Robbie allowed, mind racing. This was going to improve things, it had to, he decided. 

Really, the only direction things could go was up.

-tbc-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Robbie, he tries so hard! At least he still had ten fingers by the end, right, RoxyWolf? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, it was a challenge to write this story. Secondhand embarrassment is frankly difficult for me, I can't even watch 'The Office', LOL!
> 
> That said, this chapter is where things get smutty, be forewarned. And enjoy it, this was a long time coming for the boys. ;)

* * *

The flyer Robbie had taken from the Farmer's Market had a list of upcoming events on it and one or two had caught Robbie's eye; not because he was planning on attending, thank you very much, but because he'd thought he could modify it for his own use. Villainy had required a great deal of improvising off already existing ideas, there was no reason that the same couldn't be applied to dating. 

In particular, the 'Late Night Poetry Jam' ad had interested him, especially with the 'tell your loved one how you feel in rhyme' blurb. Reading poetry was _obviously_ romantic; it said so right in the ad. 

Robbie managed to clean up most of the carnage from dinner without dislodging Sportacus's head from his lap, which was a good thing since he seemed very unwilling to move. Almost disturbingly so; for one, Sportacus wasn't known for his great ability in keeping still and second, Sportacus was always one of the first to jump up and help with any cleanup around town. Maybe it was foolishness on Robbie's part, but it was somehow charming that he was so willing to let Robbie take care of everything. This was his date night, after all. He had a handle on it. 

"All right," Robbie said and he strained to reach the book that was carefully stashed beneath the table, "You can stay right there and…oops, sorry, sorry, sorry!" The book had slipped a little from his grasp and rapped Sportacus smartly between the eyes.

He gave Robbie an amused look, crossing his eyes absurdly, "I'm fine, calm down."

Robbie rubbed his forehead anyway, smoothing over the little red mark until Sportacus caught his hand. He drew it to his mouth and kissed his fingers gently, "Robbie, it was a book, a _little_ book, not a sledgehammer. _Calm down_."

"I'm calm!" Robbie snarled. Sportacus only raised an eyebrow. He took a deep breath, let it out, repeating quieter, "I'm calm."

"Good," Sportacus smiled up at him. "Now, I'm thinking you're going to read to me?"

"The book was something of a hint, wasn't it," Robbie opened it to the first page, "It's…it's Shakespeare." Which, according to his Google search, was obviously not only one of the most romantic poets but also one that Robbie happened to own a book because there was no amount of panic that would have been incentive enough for him to borrow a book on poetry from anyone in town. Just the thought of anyone eagerly adding to their blog that Robbie had gone in search of a book of poetry was enough for him to want to lock himself into his bunker for the foreseeable future and longer.

"You're going to read me Shakespeare?" Sportacus sounded pleased, at least. He settled better into Robbie's lap, clasping his hands over his own belly. "That sounds lovely."

"Yes," Robbie swallowed. "I am. Yes. Shakespeare." If he could manage to be something else than an incoherent ninny. Robbie gave himself a savage mental shake and turned to the first little post-it flag he'd placed early; there were nearly a dozen, he'd searched intently for the very best poems. He was fumbling enough without having to try to skip around any of the weirder ones on the fly. 

Robbie wasn't particularly fond of poetry but he knew what he liked, and this was a favorite. He held the book open with one hand, the other absently stroking Sportacus's soft curls, as he read, "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun—"

Quietly, Robbie read on, basking in the mental exercise of reading each poem aloud alongside the warmth of Sportacus in his lap, the silky curls against his fingers. The sun was sinking down, making it harder to read, and yet Robbie still delighted in the bliss of it all; surprisingly good poetry and Sportacus, and it was all going perfectly for once and—

A low snore broke through his thoughts and Robbie halted, blinking down at Sportacus. Who was very obviously sound asleep, his lashes dark crescents on his cheeks. He snored again, low and rumbling, and quiet as it was it was terribly loud in the silence around them.

Oh.

Robbie very carefully set the book aside, blinking hard, and some of his joy faded, trickling away and leaving him clinging to the rest. This was…it was fine, Sportacus wasn't used to staying up past 8:08pm and from the growing darkness, it was far past that. What had Robbie really expected, anyway?

Why had he thought he could do this?

"Sportacus," Robbie said, low, gently nudging him. Then again, a little louder, until he stirred, blinking up at him, the blue of his eyes masked in the dusk, only shadows and possibility. 

"Robbie?" Sportacus said, and his voice was husky, "I…did I fall asleep? I'm sorry; your voice is so soothing."

Soothing? Better than grating. "Thank you," Robbie sighed. "It's all right. It's getting late." Late for Sportacus, anyway. Robbie was going to spend the next twenty-four hours buried in schematics and gears, trying to forget what an utter failure he was.

Sportacus sat up, stretching and, well, that view was worth the price of admission, wasn't it. He hummed a low agreement, looking around them at the growing shadows. "I had a nice time."

Almost, Robbie let it go. Almost, he nodded along, offering a kiss or two before shuffling Sportacus off and almost, almost he didn’t say a word otherwise. 

Almost.

Instead, a snort of disgusted amusement burst free and Robbie was already shaking his head, rubbing his temples where a headache was starting to bloom.

"A nice time? Which part?" Robbie snorted, "The part where I ruined dinner? Or maybe when my coffee almost put you in a coma? Or how about the part where I bored you back into a coma, I'm sure that was a great time."

"Hey," Sportacus said, sharply enough that he caught Robbie's attention. "First, dinner was fine for me. If there was any problem with it, it was that you could have made yourself something _you_ would enjoy more. It was very sweet of you to try to eat what I like, but I know my diet isn't for everyone."

He held up two fingers, "Second, the coffee was an accident and if it was anyone's fault, it was mine for not paying attention. And lastly, I was not bored. Your voice is beautiful and very relaxing, it was like meditating." Sportacus smiled wryly. "I've been known to fall asleep during that, too." He reached out and gently touched Robbie's cheek, drawing a fingertip down the line of his jaw. "You made me a wonderful dinner and read me poetry. Why are you so hard on yourself?"

A little helplessly, Robbie leaned into the touch, "You've been so…wonderful, with everything. I wanted to give you something perfect," he confessed, low.

"And it was perfect, for me," Sportacus told him, gently, "I just wanted to spend time with you and we can do that like this, if you want, or we can spend time in the park, or we can watch movies. You said there were more Star Wars ones?"

"A few," Robbie hedged, trying to decide if it was the better part of valor to pretend the prequels didn't exist.

"I'd like to see them with you," Sportacus smiled, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Robbie's forehead, "Actually, next time I'd love to go to the Farmer's Market with you. I can tell that's where you got the strawberries. I'd love to shop for sports candy with you." Robbie could feel his grin widen, "I'm sure it would be…interesting."

"Yeah, she said the same thing," Robbie said, unthinkingly.

"She?" Sportacus sat back, frowning. "She who?"

Uh. "I…I wasn't…I didn't know…so I asked…the coffee shop barista," Robbie said reluctantly.

"You took Trina to the farmer's market?" Sportacus sounded strange, his voice a little strangled and Robbie cringed. That sounded terrible, didn't it, Sportacus couldn't be thinking…he had to be thinking it, it sounded _awful_ said like that.

"Robbie, I can't believe—

Robbie cringed even harder. That had been Robbie's first time to the Farmer's Market; maybe that had been something Sportacus had wanted to do himself? Maybe it had been a date idea he had and now Robbie had ruined it, because of course he had, and…

"—how much you must have hated that! You did that for me?" Sportacus kissed him before Robbie could even answer, eager and happy. "And you asked her for help?"

"Yes," Robbie admitted weakly. And found himself gently tackled back to the blanket, Sportacus on top of him and this, this was worth every second of those booths and all the knowing looks from seemingly every person at the market. 

A soft tongue stroked against his own, Sportacus wasn't even bothering with chaste or gentle. His mouth was eager, taking hard kisses, his teeth grazing Robbie's lower lip. His weight was a welcome pressure against Robbie and when he shifted, spreading his legs to let Sportacus slide down between them, the sound Sportacus made was bitten off, lost between their mouths. 

This was…oh…Robbie had barely allowed himself to dream of anything like this. Not the slick pressure of Sportacus's mouth on his own, learning his taste, the velvety stroke of his tongue. 

It was only when a hand started easing open the buttons on his shirt with far more dexterity than should currently be possible that Robbie resisted, twisting away from that tempting mouth to hiss out, "We are outside!"

"It's dark," Sportacus murmured, undeterred. Instead, he nuzzled against the underside of Robbie's chin and lower, buttons slipping free until he could suck gently at the crux of his neck and shoulder. 

Well, yes, it was very dark, even the lights of the billboard were turned off because... well because…

Robbie swallowed, felt the soft pressure of lips follow the bob of his Adam's apple. "Are you…are you sure…?"

There was a long exhale, hot breath against his skin and Sportacus lifted his head to look down at him. In the darkness, Robbie could only see the outline of his face, a shadow above him. "Robbie, I'm not pressuring you. If you don't want to make love, that's fine, but don't say no because you aren't sure what I want." Carefully, Sportacus rocked his hips against Robbie and yes, it was terribly obvious what _he_ wanted. 

Make love. Why did he have to put it like that, it was sex, just sex, he'd done that before and so what if it had been a long time--

"Me too," Robbie blurted. He raised up enough to catch Sportacus's mouth again, slick-slide of damp lips against each other, whispering between kisses. "I do want. I do."

That seemed to be permission enough. Robbie felt the cool touch of nighttime air against his bare skin as the buttons on his shirt were undone, followed by warm fingertips grazing his skin. A bare touch at first, skimming against him, and then firmer, broader strokes over his chest, palm warm and slightly callused. Easing lower, hand flat against his belly and Robbie squeezed his eyes shut, focused on the feeling of it; of wet, soft lips mouthing their way down, pausing to investigate his nipple, teeth grazing as it hardened against the cool air and Robbie choked out a sound at the pinprick of delicate pain, trembling hands fluttering in the air before settling on Sportacus's shoulders.

Hands rested on Robbie's hips, thumbs smoothing along his sides and Sportacus's mouth was warm and wet, leaving soft, biting kisses as he inched lower. Tasted his way lower, his tongue rough as it mapped the edge of his ribs, delicately circled the cup of Robbie's navel. 

"Can I?" Sportacus whispered against his belly, lips grazing his skin ticklishly. "I want to taste you. Please, can I?"

"Yes," Robbie said hoarsely. Oh, yes, please, please, he'd not even dared dream of this but he wanted it, a heady thrum of need low in his belly. 

A satisfied hum buzzed against his skin, another light, wet kiss. Hands slipped beneath him, urging him to arch up and Robbie obeyed mindlessly, wincing at the chill on his bare skin as his trousers were tugged down. His underwear followed more carefully, lifted up the elastic waist to let his prick bounce free. The roll of elastic was tight on his thighs, pinning his legs together and Robbie covered his mouth with both hands, muffling his cry as a warm, broad hand cupped between his legs, thumb grazing the base of his erection. Lips followed, kissing just below the flare of the head and Robbie whimpered between his fingers.

"What a pretty cock," Sportacus murmured and Robbie felt his entire face go blazing hot, good god, had he actually just _said_ that? A distant niggle of jealousy made Robbie wonder just what was his basis of comparison but it was muffled, buried beneath the feel of Sportacus's parted lips against him, his hand in the small of Robbie's back urging him to rock up into the dark wetness of his mouth. 

Luxuriously wet, the plush softness of his tongue curling against the head, cushioning against the shaft as Robbie hesitantly lifted up, pressing in. A soft, approving hum vibrated around him and Robbie closed his eyes so hard he could see stars swimming behind them. One hard, wet suck, another, and then Sportacus pulled off and Robbie nearly cried, felt tears actually prickle. 

"Don't do that," Sportacus scolded, and Robbie couldn't ask what, what wasn't he supposed to do, _what_. "Don't cover your mouth, I want to hear you."

Oh, he couldn't, he couldn't, but Sportacus was nuzzling against his cock, drenching-wet licks and Robbie wrenched his hands down, gathering up fistfuls of the blanket as he choked out a moan, writhing up, trying to beg without words.

"Better," Sportacus breathed, hot against slick skin and took him in again. 

"Oh," Robbie wailed through his clenched teeth, clotted and low, and Sportacus's mouth was tight, perfect suction and it was too much, more than he could stand. He arched up, pushing into the perfect, dark heat of Sportacus's mouth and came in a white-hot burst. He could feel it, distantly, the slippery weight of his own come on Sportacus's tongue before it was swallowed away.

Robbie lay back against the blankets, sweating beneath the shambles of his clothing, still trembling with it and Sportacus was over him again, kissing him with closed lips. To hell with that. Robbie pushed his tongue inside, wanted to taste himself on that hot, swollen mouth, faint salt bitterness lingering. 

"You taste good," Sportacus pulled away to murmur, his voice a low rasp; he sounded _used_ and Robbie had to take his mouth again, see if he could taste the difference in his voice.

Distantly, Robbie came to realize that Sportacus was rubbing against him, still hard against Robbie's belly. He was still mostly dressed, his hands and feet bare and little more. Robbie ran his hands down Sportacus's chest and Sportacus lifted up enough to let him. 

He dropped his forehead to Robbie's shoulder, breathing heavily as Robbie fumbled with his belt, and he was nothing like as talented as Sportacus, nothing like as graceful, but he could manage buttons and fasteners, he could get a hand inside and feel the heat of his erection against his palm, relish Sportacus's gasp and the lurch of his hips as he rocked into Robbie's touch. 

"Oh, that's good, yes, like that," Sportacus panted, and _he_ wasn't shy about making noise, groaning and gasping as Robbie gripped him, holding on as Sportacus ground into him, driving into the circle of Robbie's fist. "There, there, yes, I'm close, I…I…" 

He buried his cry against Robbie's neck, low and satisfied as Sportacus came in a slick rush over Robbie's hand and belly. The feel of him shaking was overwhelming, as sweet as a second orgasm, and Robbie slid his free hand into Sportacus's hair, cupping the nape of his neck and soothing him down. 

A brief moment of trembling breaths, hot against Robbie's neck, and then his mouth was caught again in frantic kisses, Sportacus taking his lips in a startlingly graceless press of teeth and tongue.

"Oh," Sportacus mumbled between kisses, "Oh, that was…you were…oh…"

"Oh," Robbie echoed, petting his hair and shoulders, meeting each kiss and yet, soothing him until they gentled, until Sportacus sighed a little and shifted off him to rest his head in the hollow of Robbie's shoulder and neck. 

Drowsily, Robbie stared up at the night sky. He was a disaster, sweaty and messy, and Sportacus was overwhelming hot pressed against him, one of his bare feet wriggling up the leg of Robbie's trousers to press his toes against his ankle. Both of them needed at the very least a napkin and probably a shower would be better, along with a change of clothes and they were still outside where anyone with a good flashlight would get a particularly scandalous story for their blog.

Robbie didn't move.

A streak of light caught his eye and Robbie blinked up at the sky, remembering. He gave Sportacus a light nudge. "Don't go to sleep yet. Look up."

"Oh!" Sportacus shifted to lie on his back and Robbie could almost feel his wonder.

"It's the Perseids meteor shower," Robbie whispered, catching sight of another streak of light. "There was a flyer at the Farmer's Market and...that's why I wanted to have a picnic. I thought you might like to see it."

"I do," Sportacus said, softly, but he wasn't looking at the sky when he shifted to give Robbie a kiss, his lips still puffy warm and soft. He leaned back, a little, his face in shadow as he whispered, "Can I stay the night?"

Robbie closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "All right." It would be fine, he told himself. Just fine. 

The perfect end to a perfect night.

 

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hey, Robbie, you did good. Sportacus had a good time, anyway. ;) 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading! I suspect there will be at least one more story for this series that was supposed to be a 1000 word short. ;P
> 
> P.S. The sonnet Robbie starts reading is Shakespeare's Sonnet 130.


End file.
